Ferrum Lupus Exuro in Abyssus

The Tale of St. Brogan

by Sir Osric

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house (hold)
Not a creature was stirring, not even a House (as in Vegor);

The armor was hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Brogan soon would be there;

The Wolfies were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of carnage danced in their heads;

And Goblin mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the tent flap I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny monkeys drunken on beer,

With a little old driver, built like Hulk Hogan,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Brogan.

More rapid than eagles his monkeys they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Vlad! now Darius! now Vegor and Schwartz!
On, Octavio! on Ramiro! on, Tristan and Blaise!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry heaves that before the puke hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Brogan too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The scratching and pawing of each little monkey hoof.

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Brogan came with a bound.

He was dressed all in armor, from his head to his foot,
His surcoat all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of weapons he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

A piece of rattan he held in his teeth,
The whirling arch of which encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bucket full of jelly (not exactly jelly).

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I trembled in fear, I soiled myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I would soon be dead;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And puked in the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Burn in Hell! to all, and to all a good-night."

--Merry Christmas or Whatever to all of you...